Rust and Ginger
by Eliaza
Summary: Two frightened kittens, abandoned by their mother, are brought to live in the Junkyard. But is it all fun and games there? Plato and Electra's life...


_Found_

"It's so cold," whimpered the queen-kitten.

"I know, I know," muttered her brother, hugging the queen's tiny form to him. "Just curl up against me, then it won't be so bad…" The little tom squinted out into the ferocious storm surrounding them, an overturned trash-can their only protection. He watched vainly for any movement; any sign that she might yet return…

"Wh-what's taking her so long?" chattered the tiny queen, burying her face in his ginger-and-black-patched fur.

"Maybe she couldn't find anything…and then got caught in the storm…" said the tom, trying to sound hopeful. But he himself had no hope left. _I'm going hunting, _she'd said. 'Hunting' meant knocking over trash-cans and digging out scraps. _Take care of your sister; I'll be back soon… _That had been three days ago. They hadn't seen their mother since. Why, oh _why _hadn't_ he _gone instead? Young as he was, it wasn't as if he was a baby anymore; he was good at finding food. Then it would've been _him _missing; but his sister needed him a lot less than she needed their mother. _At least Electra eats solid food now… _

"B-but what if s-she never comes back?" wailed Electra, his sister, clinging to him with all her might.

"Then _I'll _take care of you," said the young tom stoutly. "We can be on our own; we don't _need _her." He knew his words sounded a bit cruel, but if their mother was gone…for good…he'd have to be tough for himself and Electra. Besides, it was true; _he _didn't need his mother anymore. His nose and eyes ran, but he blamed it on the cold. 

"I'm s-scared," Electra sniffled. 

"I'll take care of you," the ginger-patched tom repeated. "I'll always take care of you." He paused, glancing out into the rain, which showed no signs of stopping. "Get some sleep, Elli." He couldn't tell what time of day it was; really, who could? As dark as the sky was, it was night, or as good as. Electra snuggled up as close to him as she could possibly get.

"Plato?" she whispered.

"What?" the young tom responded, bringing his attention back on her.

"Aren't _you_ scared?" 

"No," Plato lied. "It's okay if you're scared," he added, gently stroking her rust-and-black tortoiseshell fur. "I'll stay awake all night." _Well, he'd stay awake as long as she slept…notwithstanding what time of day it was._ Electra closed her eyes. Then,

"I'm hungry," she whimpered softly.

"Then we'll eat," promised Plato. "As soon as this storm stops, I'll find us food…"

"Don't leave me!" Electra shrieked upon hearing these words, clutching at his arm as if he was about to get up and leave right that moment.

"I'll never leave you," Plato hastened to assure her. "Wherever I go, I'll take you with me. We'll find food _together_ when you wake up." Reassured, the kitten snuggled down to sleep again. Plato snuggled down too, but not to sleep. Keeping his promise, he never dozed off once while Electra slept. During that time, Plato resigned himself to the inevitable: _We've only got each other now._

* * *

"Yew did it."

"Codswallop, I was nowhere _near _it; 'twos _yew!" _ Electra was awakened by the sound of voices near the trash-can: A tom and a queen's by the sound of them. Heart pounding, she poked her brother, who had his eyes closed. 

"P-Plato," she squeaked, "you _promised _you wouldn't fall asleep!" Plato opened his eyes.

"I didn't," he said truthfully. "Just resting my eyes." He looked searchingly into her face. "What's wrong?"

"D-didn't you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"The voices!" At that moment, the queen spoke again.

"I mean, 'oo was th' one th't jus' _had _to 'ave that book; just 'cause it 'ad a picture of a cat on it!"

"Well, 'oo wos th'one who just _had _to 'ave th' Argentine joint?" retorted the tom. He sounded closer now. Electra shivered and huddled up as close to Plato as she could. "An' them Woolworth pearls, too, I migh' add."

"That's _not _wot we're—" The queen began, before her voice suddenly cut off. "Hoi, Jerrie, lookit wot _I _found!" Electra shrieked, and Plato barely restrained himself from letting out a startled yell. Two faces had appeared in the opening of the trash-can. Electra huddled as far back in the can as she could; Plato stood protectively in front of her, trying very hard to look fierce. The queen looked taken aback. "Aww, we ain't gonna hurt ya!" she said. She turned to the tom. "They're just a couple a' kittens, Jerrie!" The tom, apparently named Jerrie, scratched his head.

"Where's yer mum?" he asked.

"Why d'yew_ always _have t' say the wrong thing!" scolded the queen, poking him. "They probably lost 'er," she murmured in his ear. "…y'know, like we did."

"We _didn't_ lose her," growled Plato, overhearing. (The queen was not very good at whispering.) "An' if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from our den!" The queen's eyes widened.

"Yew _live_ 'ere?" Just then, Electra crept up from behind Plato. She was scared witless, but she was also starving…and she'd smelled food.

"Plato? Do they have food?" whispered the rust tortie, afraid to actually talk to the other cats. However, the other cats had a very keen sense of hearing. The queen smiled broadly.

"Yew _bet _we do!" she said, before Plato could reply. "Want some?" 

"No," said Plato firmly. 

"Oh, don' give me that catnip," said Jerrie. "I c'n 'ear yer mouth waterin'."

"How can you do that?" asked Electra, creeping a bit farther forward.

"It's a secret," said Jerrie mysteriously. "But if'n y'come out…"

"Don't touch my sister!" snarled Plato, quickly moving between Electra and Jerrie. Jerrie and the queen exchanged a look.

"'E thinks yew c'ld 'urt 'er," the queen giggled. "Imagine that!" She turned back to Plato. "'E couln' tear up a _leaf, _much less either o' yew two!" Jerrie didn't look gratified at that. "Bu' lookit 'ow rude we're bein'," she cried, slapping herself in the head. "We've not even introduced ourselves! I'm Rumpelteazer (though she pronounced it as 'TeazAH'). This's me twin brothah, Mungojerrie." Both stood up and gave bows, which were at once formal and comical. Now Plato could see them clearly: Both had ginger, black, and white-striped fur, though Rumpelteazer's also had some golden-brown stripes. And he could also now see that they were _kittens, _probably between himself and Electra in age. He felt a bit foolish for being so afraid of them; from the looks of them, he could take either one of them down. However, there was still the fact that there were _two _of them and only _one_ of him; little Electra would be no match for either of them. So Plato very slowly and very cautiously made his way out of the 'den', motioning Electra to stay there. 

"What do you want?" he asked again, standing up to his full height so that they could see what they'd be dealing with if they were here to cause trouble. He then caught sight of two bulky-looking sacks. "And what's in _those?" _he asked suspiciously.

"Oh…jus' some odds an' ends," shrugged Mungojerrie carelessly.

"An' dinner," Rumpelteazer added, opening her sack. The smell of Argentine joint drifted to the other two kittens, full-force. The matching tabbies turned their backs, pretending to ignore Plato and Electra. "Now then, Jerrie," said Rumpetleazer with a wink, "which part d'yew want?"

"Mm," sighed Mungojerrie, licking his lips with a dramatic sigh. "I dunno. Yew pick first. Yew foun' it." 

"Hmm." Rumpelteazer seemed in no hurry to begin eating, but sniffed the meat all over. Meantime, the tiny rust tortoiseshell was being drawn to the smell like a magnet. She forgot about her brother's warning to stay in their 'den', and came out—though she stopped behind Plato, still nervous about the tabby kittens.

"Plato," she whispered, practically crying from hunger, "please ask them for some, _please!" _Still, Plato hesitated. He still didn't quite trust these kits, and even supposing he trusted them enough to ask for food, they might not share after he'd been so rude to them.

"Say—er…" he mumbled. "Could…uh…"

"Oh!" said Mungojerrie, turning in surprise. "Would _yew _like some?" He held up a piece of meat. Electra couldn't contain herself any longer. She scrambled forward, snatched the piece from the tiger tom's hand, then dashed back to crouch behind Plato and devour the food.

"Electra, wait!" said Plato sharply, just as his sister was putting the meat in her mouth. She withdrew it, and sat there staring at it, tongue hanging out. "Look here," he said to the grinning twins, "we won't eat any until you do."

"Oh, I see," Rumpelteazer nodded. "Y' think it's poisoned, righ'?" She seized a piece of joint and shoved it into her mouth. The other three watched as she chewed, slowly and dramatically, and swallowed. "Pure bliss," she sighed, licking her lips. "Well?" She raised an eyebrow at Plato.

"I…I guess it's all right," said Plato reluctantly. Electra positively wolfed down the meat, then looked up at Rumpelteazer.

"C-can…can I have…some more?" she squeaked.

"A'course, yew c'n 'ave all y' want, love," laughed Mungojerrie, tossing the kitten another piece. Rumpelteazer raised an eyebrow at Plato.

"I don' s'pose _yew _would like any?" she inquired.

"I…" Before the ginger-patched tom could respond, his stomach gave an enormous rumble.

"I'll take that as a yes," the tabby queen giggled, handing him a piece of meat. Plato stared at it for a moment with a mixture of longing and suspicion, before his hunger won out and he ate it.

"Why are you helping us?" asked Plato after a while.

"Silly, were we s'posed ta let y' starve?" grunted Mungojerrie.

"Well," Electra piped up, "our mummy always said that we should never trust street cats."

"Street cats?" laughed Rumpelteazer. 

"Oh, far from it, m'dear," said Mungojerrie. "Don't y' see these things 'round our necks?" The tabby kittens wore black silver-studded collars—and Rumpelteazer also had a string of pearls around her neck.

"You…you mean _humans _own you?" asked Electra, her eyes widening. "Mum always said that…that humans…"

"_Own _us?" cried Rumpelteazer, somewhat indignantly. "We ain' owned by nobody! We got our own 'ome; we jus'…humor them by goin' back once in a while. Though after today…" She glanced at her brother. "…We're not sure they'll ever wan' us back." Plato thought he was beginning to understand where all this food had come from. Well, he at least had a theory as to why this Argentine joint tasted fresh, as if it had yet to enter the waste-basket—or even a human's table. But what interested him most was what they'd said about 'their own home'.

"So you live somewhere other than your humans' house?" he asked.

"In a 'umongous barrel," said Jerrie proudly, "in a glorious rubbish dump."

"With your mummy?" asked Electra.

"Er…no," said Rumpelteazer, shuffling her feet awkwardly. "We dunno where our mum is."

"You live by yourselves?" cried the little tortie. "But isn't that scary?"

"Oh, not at all," Mungojerrie assured her. "Er, I mean, we don' live by oursel's. There's lotsa cats there."

"Oh." An awkward silence followed. Rumpelteazer kept elbowing her brother, clearing her throat, and making faces. All this did was earn strange looks from the other cats. Finally, the golden-brown tabby brought her foot down onto her brother's tail, raising quite a yowl from the tom.

"Wot was _that _fer?" he growled, holding his throbbing tail in both paws.

"Yer _hopeless,_ Jerrie!" cried Rumpelteazer. She turned to the confused kittens. "Yew wanna come t' the junkyahd with us?" she blurted out. Plato only stared. _We meet two random cats on the street and they expect us to come live with them?_

* * *

"What if mummy comes back and wonders where we are?"

"She'll find us."

"How?" 

"She just…will. We're only going to visit, anyway."

Maybe it was the cold. Maybe it was the promise of the abundance of food. Maybe it was the hungry look in Electra's eyes. Maybe it was the way the twins looked when talking about their 'junkyard'. _Or maybe there _was_ no junkyard and the twins were evil villains with highly persuasive powers…_

In any case, Plato and Electra found themselves following the matched tabbies, allowing themselves to be led to this 'junkyard'—only to visit, as Plato said. Though, deep within himself, he knew better. It was no secret that he and his sister's situation had become rather desperate. Winter was coming; they were all alone, with little hope of their mother ever returning. They needed someplace to stay, other cats for protection, food to eat… For, as good a hunter and protector as Plato believed himself to be, it _was _true that he still wasn't quite strong enough to knock over trash-cans. It was also true that if anything bigger than…than, well, him, came along, he'd be in for disaster. 

So, perhaps it wasn't as surprising as it would have been in a normal situation, that he'd so easily been persuaded to follow two strange cats of whom he knew nothing, to a place that may not even exist. 


End file.
